


“Totally worth it.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [37]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of possible first kisses between these two.





	“Totally worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reindeerjumper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/gifts).



> A gift for Reindeerjumper. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> “How about cormoran sleeping—midday nap? resting after getting jostled by a suspect?—and robin finding him on the sofa. she’s overwhelmed with emotion that he’s ok, and goes down to kiss his forehead, but she didn’t know he’s a light sleeper?”

Robin’s phone vibrated in her bag as she sat in the cafe at the gym. Redhead had deviated ever so slightly from her routine today - Zumba instead of yoga. Robin had been vaguely wondering if she could convince herself that this even constituted a change in routine. It was still at the gym, and Robin still had to make a bad cup of coffee last an hour and a half. _God, I’m bored._

She pulled her phone out and opened the message. It was from Strike.

“Where’s the first aid kit?”

Robin frowned at her phone and typed back. “Top drawer of the filing cabinet behind my desk. What have you done now? x”

“Got too close to Bully Boy. I’ll just get sorted.”

“Need a hand? I’m only a few streets away. x”

“I’ve got it.”

Robin looked at her phone for a long minute and sighed. It sounded like he had things under control, but she wondered what had happened. Bully Boy was an ex pupil at a rough local comprehensive who had been hanging around streets near the school and threatening a teacher he blamed for his poor life chances. The police had been unable to catch him in the act, so the teacher had hired Strike to try to get photographic evidence.

Strike had been enjoying this case, managing to make it mean he spent more time with Shanker than Robin thought could possibly be strictly necessary. She’d suspected him of being hung over on several mornings after evening meetings with Shanker to “discuss strategy” or “share information”.

Finally, Redhead emerged, sweaty, from Zumba and headed for the showers. Robin knew the drill. She’d be 20 minutes or so, then she’d go for coffee or lunch with friends. Robin wondered how Strike was getting on patching himself up. She drummed her fingers restlessly on the tabletop.

 _Stuff it,_ she thought, suddenly. _I need to go and check he’s not making a mess of things._ Uncharacteristically, she abandoned her post and headed back to the office.

It was lunchtime now and town was busy. She tried not to be too impatient as she skirted meandering shoppers and queues of office workers outside cafes waiting to buy lunch. It seemed to take forever to get back to Denmark Street, and then she still had to navigate the crowds and the roadworks.

She paused outside the office door, hunting for her keys, and her eye was snagged by rust-brown coloured spots on the pavement at her feet. Robin had been working for Strike long enough now to recognise dried blood when she saw it. Alarm rose in her heart. That hadn’t been there this morning.

She let herself in and hurried up the stairs. _What’s he done to himself,_ she wondered.

She opened the glass door, and jumped a little in alarm. The kitchen roll they kept for mopping up tea spills was sat on her desk, almost finished, and blood-soaked wads of it spilled out of the bin. The first aid kit sat open on her desk with various items spilling out. She hurried through to Strike’s office, but it was deserted.

Turning back, she saw him slumped on the sofa behind the door, asleep. His left hand was inexpertly bandaged - hard to wrap one hand with the other and secure it, she supposed. He had evidently sat on the sofa to rest and then laid his head on the arm and gone to sleep. She approached, hoping he was indeed asleep and not passed out, and heard a slight snore.

She stood by the sofa and smiled softly down at him. She hadn’t realised how worried she’d been until she saw him, saw that he was okay. _We should probably still check that hand doesn’t need stitching,_ she thought, vaguely. She was caught by surprise by the emotion that surged in her heart. She hated it when he was tailing people they knew to be dangerous. Now here he was, safe back in the office, looking so gorgeous, relaxed in sleep. On impulse she bent down to kiss his forehead.

She pressed her lips lightly to the edge of his forehead, just by his temple. His skin was unexpectedly soft, and she found herself lingering for a beat. His scent washed over her, warm and musky, and she inhaled him gently, her eyes drifting closed, lost for a moment. Finally she drew back a little, smiling softly...and met his gaze as he looked up at her curiously.

Robin almost jumped out of her skin. She flushed guiltily. She felt like she’d been caught taking the last biscuit from the tin. She pulled back, but his hand shot out and grabbed her forearm, holding her in place. Their eyes met for a long, heated moment.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured huskily, his hand curling around her arm, pulling gently, encouraging her closer, his dark eyes holding hers. Mesmerised, Robin found herself drifting closer again, pressing her lips back to his forehead, her eyes fluttering closed. She kissed the soft skin gently, breathing him again, and he sighed. His hand on her arm relaxed, but she didn’t pull away. She paused, her lips still against his skin.

Boldness overcame her then. She moved her lips, just a little, to his temple, and kissed him there. She found herself slowly sinking to her knees next to him as she kissed his cheekbone, feeling the edge of his stubble against the corner of her mouth. Still he didn’t move, his eyes closed. She kissed across the softness of his cheek. His breathing hitched, unsteady now, and she could feel him tremble a little as she moved her lips to the corner of his mouth. Desire coiled within her. She pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth and he moaned faintly, his lips parting and his breath stirring the hair by her ear.

Another small hesitation, and she moved her lips gently to his. She kissed his top lip, kissed the scar there. She kissed his bottom lip, felt the fullness of it. She kissed him gently, full on the mouth, and then drew back slowly.

His eyes drifted open and met hers, and her breath caught at the heat in his gaze. Desire coursed through her. There was an exquisite pause as they looked at one another, and then his hand came up, slid around the back of her neck and pulled her gently into another kiss.

This kiss was anything but soft. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue seeking hers at once, and she was lost, pressing closer, tongues exploring. Heat jumped sharply within her and she moaned, her hands sliding into his curls, pulling him closer. They kissed and kissed, until finally Robin had to break away to breathe, panting a little.

Their eyes met again, and Robin dropped hers, shy, and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “I, er, was just glad you’re okay,” she muttered.

He gave a soft laugh. “I’m fine,” he said. “Caught the edge of his knife, sliced my thumb. Looks worse than it is.” He leaned back a little to look at her and she raised her face, embarrassed. “Totally worth it, though,” he said, grinning, and she laughed, her eyes sliding away from his and then back again.

“Let me check it doesn’t need stitches,” she said, turning to examine the wound, but his other hand slid into her hair again.

“In a minute,” he said, pulling her back in for another kiss.

 


End file.
